Eight Years
by Cath1
Summary: A meeting eight years on [J/D]


Eight Years

Author: Cath

Feedback: More than welcomed: button_mush@hotmail.com    

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Summary: A meeting eight years on. (J/D)

Spoilers: None.

Archive: If you ask nicely.

Rating: PG

Notes: Another oddity from me. Blame the birds (for more information, email me and ask. It's not that interesting, I assure you).  

Christine's a very nice person. And she also betaed this for me, which I very much appreciate!

~*~ Eight Years ~*~

He called her out of the blue two weeks ago. 

Eight years of nothing and then a phone call. 

~

She's meeting him in a bar. She hopes that the alcohol will soothe her nerves but as she stands at the bar, a glass of wine in her hand, she shakes. She puts the glass down, fearing that she'll drop it, and takes a deep breath. 

Seconds later she picks it up again and downs the contents in one gulp as she sees him enter. 

"Dutch courage," she says to the barman in response to his amused look. 

Their reunion is stilted, awkward, and characterised by a brief hug that she's not sure she wants to receive. 

She smiles insincerely. 

She invites him to sit down at a table. He offers to buy her a drink. She accepts. 

Five minutes later, he returns. 

"How are you?" he asks after an awkward pause. 

She's not sure what to say. Their last meeting wasn't entirely amicable; him demanding to know why she felt the need to leave him; her not giving answers beyond "I need to". 

"Fine," she replies eventually. "Yourself?"

He doesn't answer, but instead says, "My mother misses you."

She genuinely brightens. "Anna asked after me?" she asks. "How is she?"

"Fine." A pause; he takes a sip from his scotch. "You know she got married again last year?"

"She did?" she asks, interested. "You should tell her to phone me."

There's silence again. 

"Donna, why did you leave me?" he asks. 

There's some pain there; she can see that. And she's not sure she understands why. 

"I told you why I needed to. It wasn't good for me to stay. For either of us."

"I…" He doesn't continue. She doesn't think she wants him to. "And you're okay? Happy?" he questions.

She nods and smiles, glances at her hand almost imperceptibly. He sees the light glinting off it.

"You're married?" he asks, almost shocked. She wonders why; it's not all that shocking that she could be, right?

"Engaged," she corrects.

"Oh," he says. "Congratulations." It sounds flat and almost forced to her. 

"Thank you."

She doesn't ask about his marital state. She's not sure she wants to know.

Instead, she drinks some of the wine and silently reflects on her past. 

"Why did you want to meet me?" she asks suddenly, as though the thought had just occurred to her. 

He doesn't reply immediately, and when he does, it's to ask a question. "Why did you agree to meet me?" 

"I was curious," she admits. "Eight years is a long time." She asks again, "Why am I here?"

He hesitates. "I just wanted to… I wanted to see if I could fix past mistakes," he replies eventually.

"Why now?" she wonders. "It's been eight years. I'm not still pining away after you. I'm not sure I ever was."

There's anger there, but not ever so much. 

"I…" He doesn't finish. "This was a bad idea," he says with a sigh. "I should never have called you. I should have let the past lie."

"Jo--"

He interrupts. "Donna, I'd better go. I'm just… I'm sorry about how everything turned out. I hope you're happy." He stands.

"I am. Thank you."

She watches him leave. Absently, she agrees that the past should be left where it is. There is little to be done about it now. 

Her fiance comes over from the bar. 

"So, that was the great love of your life, eh?" he asks with a smirk.

She raises her eyebrows. "Hardly." She sighs. "Ah, John McClelland, my first real boyfriend. If it wasn't for him, we'd never have met."

He lifts his glass to hers. "Thank you, Dr. Freeride," he says sarcastically.

"Josh," she warns. 

"What? You want to invite him to the wedding?"

"No!" She sighs again. "It's just…" she trails off, thinking about another part of her life and about the past she cannot reclaim or change. 

"I know," he says.

He takes her hand and entwines it with his own. 

~

End.   


End file.
